


Growing a Beard

by MirrorMystic



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: Alm and Celica had an… arrangement, in the days after the war, when the castle felt more like a closet.





	Growing a Beard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strikinglight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikinglight/gifts).



~*~  
  
**I** .   
  
“I’m just saying,” Alm begins, sitting on the edge of his bed. “This is the sort of thing that gets the nobles talking.”   
  
“What happens in our bedroom is no concern of theirs,” Celica says. She smooths a hand across the top of her sheets. Plain cotton, thank you. She doesn’t need lavish silk.   
  
Alm watches her in the light of the single candle on their nightstand. In the feeble firelight, Celica’s red hair turns a vivid gold.   
  
“You look beautiful,” he says.   
  
“Don’t force it,” Celica chides.   
  
Alm smiles, in quiet gratitude, and blows out the light.   
  
~*~   
  
**II** .   
  
They sit in the study together, framed with candlelight. Neither of them have any patience for the theatre and tedium of royal court. The study is their sanctuary. Peace and quiet. No titles. No pretending.   
  
“What are you working on?” Alm asks, his quill scratching against the parchment.   
  
“Trade agreement,” Celica says, and Alm smiles. Inside joke. “You?”   
  
“I’m organizing a banquet.”   
  
“What!” Celica drops her quill, peeking over Alm’s shoulder. “ _I_ want to organize a banquet.”   
  
“You have to work on your _trade agreement_ ,” Alm smirks. “Tell her I say hello, will you?”   
  
Celica smiles- a real smile, not the one painted on for the nobles- and thwaps Alm in the arm with a scroll of parchment.   
  
~*~   
  
**III** .   
  
Celica has better things to do than just hang on Alm’s arm at parties and look beautiful by the light of chandeliers. But gods, does she look stunning.   
  
“What do you think?” Celica asks in a conspiratorial whisper, looping her arm around Alm’s with practiced poise.   
  
Alm watches the crowd on the dance floor, a whirling sea of chiffon, lace, and flaring coattails. He sighs.   
  
“...I don’t know,” he breathes, squeezing Celica’s arm. “I could do with more variety.”   
  
“These noble fops are no soldiers, I admit,” Celica smiles, playful. “You did always like them... burly.”   
  
Alm chokes down a laugh and has to stop himself from playfully shoving Celica away. When all eyes in the room turn to them, Celica just smiles, and waves.   
  
~*~   
  
**IV** .   
  
“Alm,” Celica says patiently, as Alm paces fretfully around their bedroom. “If it bothers you so much-”   
  
“What bothers me is how everyone has an _opinion_ on it,” Alm huffs. “The nobles are one thing. But Clair? Lukas? Don’t even get me started on Clive and Mathilda-”   
  
Celica catches Alm by the hand, and he stops his restless pacing. He lets her pull him down so he’s sitting on her bed.   
  
“It’s not their fault,” Celica whispers. “They don’t know.”   
  
Alm sighs, and gazes up at the ceiling. “I know.”   
  
“We have options,” Celica says. “We can name a regent. If we have to…” She makes a face. “...if we really, _really_ have to…”   
  
“...we can dissolve the monarchy?” Alm suggests.   
  
Celica laughs, and leans her head on his shoulder. “Now _that_ . _That_ is what gets the nobles talking.”   
  
~*~   
  
**V** .   
  
They stand together on the dock, the water glistening with starlight. There’s a light in Celica’s eyes, too- a fire. An anticipation. Even in the dead of night, her smile shines like the sun.   
  
“Six weeks,” Celica gasps, giddy. “Six weeks away. I almost can’t believe it.”   
  
“One day, you’ll return the favor, I’m sure,” Alm says.   
  
“Once you find someone, at least.”   
  
Alm rolls his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll have the time to worry about my love life. I’ll have monarch things to do.”   
  
“Don’t force it,” Celica chides. “Have faith. It’ll happen.”   
  
“Or you’ll _make_ it happen.”   
  
Celica smiles, but doesn’t deny it. Their eyes meet for a long moment.   
  
“Hey, princess!” Saber calls from aboard the ship. “We shovin’ off, or what?”   
  
Celica flashes him an apologetic smile, before turning back to Alm. She can hear the sea calling- one bubbly voice, in particular. She takes Alm’s hands in hers, squeezes. They exchange chaste cheek kisses.   
  
They both say ‘I love you’. And they mean it, in their way.   
  
~*~


End file.
